Tempting Fate (3 page)

His smile was tight. “Of course.”

Mia frowned. He wasn’t French at all, and now that she thought about it, she wasn’t even sure Abby’s gown had laces to begin with.

“You’re the one who hauled that man away.”

He looked at her, and she wished she hadn’t spoken. His eyes cut through her, blue ice and white fire. She felt as though she might burn up if he didn’t look away and her mind tripped into overdrive even as her head began to ache.

It must have been the dress that caused her to faint, of course. The laces were just hidden. And the man must have just been some kind of paparazzi. The DeLeons were fabulously wealthy and the tabloids would want exclusive pictures from the wedding. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier? It made so much sense.

She pressed the heel of her hand to her temple.

“Mia is Abby’s sister,” Juliette said softly.

Her skull was going to explode. The last thing anyone needed was brains all over their good clothes. But now that she thought back, she was sure there had been a camera in the man’s hands. And Abby didn’t look at all like that woman in the portrait. She couldn’t even remember what the portrait looked like anymore, really. The face was all blurred in her mind.

”So she is,” Lars said.

Mia sagged back against the wall when his gaze shifted, no longer able to keep her knees from turning into pudding. She would have fallen but Jean supported her to a bench just beside the door. Why did she feel so faint all of a sudden?

Lars nodded to Mia’s parents and brushed past them into the room. Garrit’s voice rose from inside, speaking so quickly in French, Mia could understand nothing. The door shut and she heard nothing, too.

“Ugh,” Mia said. Her head felt as though it had split in half. “Poor, Abby. On her wedding day of all days.”

“She’ll be fine,” Jean said. “Lars will see to it.”

Mia shivered. “I wouldn’t want him doctoring me. He’s absolutely terrifying.”

Jean laughed. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“No, thank you.”

Garrit’s aunt excused herself to go reassure the guests in the courtyard. Mia’s mother paced, wringing her hands, and Juliette sat down, serene. Mia wondered where Garrit’s father had gotten off to. Her own father had taken a seat along another bench, his chin to his chest as if he might fall asleep. Then he stood up and left the hall altogether, going back outside. Probably looking for something to drink.

Mia sighed. If she had known things were going to be delayed, she would’ve spent the time in bed with Jean. They only had a few days, after all.

Luc joined them at one point, whispering something in Juliette’s ear that made her forehead crease. The door opened.

Lars smiled reassurance, and Luc glanced up, the tension around his mouth easing at once. Jean and Juliette rose to their feet at the sight of him.

“
Seigneur
, this way,” Luc said.

“Now wait a moment,” Mia’s mother said, when Lars began to follow him. “Is she all right?”

“She’ll be just fine,” Juliette said. “If she wasn’t, he would have said something.”

“But he didn’t say anything at all!”

Juliette’s eyes tightened, but Lars and Luc were already gone. “I am sorry,
Madame
Watson.
Monsieur
Owen can sometimes seem difficult, but he has never betrayed our trust. I’m sure that Abby will be on her feet at any moment, if she is not already.”

Her mother fumed. Mia drummed her fingers on the bench until Jean stopped her, taking her hand in his.

“How long will you stay,” he asked, “after the wedding?”

She bit her lip. His mouth was curved in just the barest of smirks, and his thumb moved over her knuckles. “I suppose that depends on how long my sister will have me.”

“Perhaps this is not the best time,” he murmured against her ear. “But I hope your sister will have you for at least a few weeks.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My sister, or you?”

He smiled that charming smile and raised her hand to his lips. “
Les deux
.”

But the door opened before she could find out exactly how far he had been willing to go to distract her.

The second attempt at the ceremony went off without a hitch, though the entire DeLeon half of the tent had begun to mutter amongst themselves when the priest began talking about Adam and Eve. Why on earth they had even bothered with a Catholic wedding was beyond her. The chapel looked as if it hadn’t seen the light of day in years, although there wasn’t a single mote of dust inside.

Caterers swept through the moment the wedding party had made it down the aisle, turning the neat rows of seats into a dance floor, and setting up tables. The chapel was closed and locked and an entire bar erected in front of the doors. Men in white suits wove through the guests with silver platters of hors d’oeuvres and crystal glasses of champagne.

Luc, with a bow and a flourish, passed her from his arm to Jean’s at the first opportunity. She might have been insulted if he hadn’t been so charming about it, and Jean hadn’t been so clearly pleased.

“You looked even more beautiful coming down the aisle the second time,” he said.

“My sister tells me you DeLeon men are very fond of flattery. I’m not sure I should believe you.”

Jean smiled. “Abby would know, wouldn’t she? But still, she married Garrit. Obviously we must be at least partially sincere, or else why would she?”

Mia had her own theories, as far as that went, but it would hardly be appropriate to call her sister a fortune hunter to her new in-laws. She smiled instead. “I suppose you’ll just have to prove your admiration of me in another way.”

“
Ma chérie
,” His breath tickled her ear. “You tempt me, but I’m afraid my cousin would never forgive me if I did not stay at least through dinner.” He nodded to Garrit and Abby, champagne glasses in their hands.

Poor Abby still looked pale, and René topped off her glass himself, whatever he was saying lost in the background noise of so many conversations. Garrit hovered behind her shoulder, leaning forward to listen. Abby’s forehead creased, but Garrit’s expression was smooth, completely unconcerned.

“She looks as though she could use more than champagne. I’ve never in my life seen her faint like that before.”

“The stress of the wedding, no doubt.” Jean smirked. “And I’m sure Garrit did not let her get much sleep last night.”

“It must run in the family.”

He grinned. “I thought I was quite generous. You slept for at least six hours.”

“A waste of a perfectly good four.”

Jean laughed. It was throaty and low, sending tingles down her spine. “I do like a challenge.”

“How long will your family stay?”

“I expect some time.” His gaze flicked from her to the cluster of DeLeon women, Juliette among them. “
Tante
Brienne will not want any of us to leave too soon. A few weeks, perhaps a month. Abby won’t like it, she hates having to keep a staff, but it cannot be helped, now.”

“Won’t she be away on her honeymoon?”

“
Non.
” Jean’s mouth firmed into a grim line. “It is too difficult for them to get away, right now. Garrit’s work will keep him in town.”

“Not even for a honeymoon?” She frowned, glancing back at her sister. Garrit had lured Abby onto the dance floor, and the color had returned to her face. “What on earth could he do for a living that’s so demanding?”

Jean shrugged. “He works managing, ah, what do you say? Currencies, I suppose, and securities.”

“In the stock market?”

“
Oui.
Out of London. He is fortunate enough to be able to do most of his work from home, but he does not take many holidays.”

No wonder Garrit spoke English so well. “And what do you do?”

“I’m studying law; next year will be my last. I’ll join my father’s firm when I’m finished, and take over when he retires.”

“Better and better.” A lawyer with prospects. She would never have to work a day in her life. If she could keep him. If her mother didn’t insist they leave tomorrow. Mia wasn’t certain she wouldn’t after what happened with that Lars Owen. She shivered, remembering the way he had stared at her. Like he might step on her and turn her into dust.

“You’ve gone white, Mia. Don’t tell me you’re going to faint, too?”

“No.” She swallowed her fear and forced herself to smile. “I was just remembering that man, earlier. He isn’t staying in the manor, too, is he?”

“
Monsieur
Owen?”

She nodded.

“
Non, Monsieur
Owen will be well on his way by now. That is not to say he will not return, but it will not be soon.” He frowned, studying her face. He caught a glass of champagne from a passing server and pressed it into her hands. “Drink,
ma chérie.
Are you really that frightened by him?”

“I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t be. Who is he?”

“A friend of
Oncle
René’s. I’ll admit that he is somewhat intimidating, but you have no reason to fear him. He would never threaten you.”

She sipped the champagne. The way he said it, she was sure the man had threatened others. Personally, she had no desire to ever see him again. Or at least never to be seen by him.

Jean laughed and kissed her forehead. “You are quite charming when you quake, Mia. What else frightens you, I wonder? Spiders? Mice?”

She grimaced. “If you must know, I don’t particularly care for rats. Or snakes, for that matter.”

“Mm.” He smiled. “Perhaps before you go, I’ll take you out to the vineyard. And if I am lucky, maybe we’ll even come across some of your legless friends.”

She shuddered, mostly for effect. “That isn’t funny, Jean.”

“
Non?
”

“
Non.
” She slipped her hand beneath his jacket and across his chest. “Besides, I’m sure you can find some better way to make me squirm.”

“
Oui.
” He traced the neckline of her dress, his gaze lingering on the valley between her breasts as if he would tear the fabric from her body. Then he raised his eyes to hers and smiled. “Shall I prove it?”

Four

Mia

“Please, Abby. Pretty please with sugar and cherries and whipped cream. You simply have to let me stay. Jean says he’ll be here the whole month, and he promised to show me everything there was to see if I do. You can’t hoard all the Frenchmen for yourself!”

Mia was sitting at the table with her mother. Somehow Jean had gotten them back to the reception before dinner had been served. Abby was going from table to table, thanking her guests, and Garrit had begun to do the same with his own on the opposite side of the canopied courtyard. It was now or never, and Mia had never believed in hesitation.

Abby sighed. “I’m hardly hoarding Frenchmen, Mia.”

“No, but you never did invite me to visit in all the time you’ve lived here. And now that I am here, you can’t get rid of me quickly enough!” Mia executed her most perfect pout. Not that it would work at all on her sister—that was what the guilt trip was for—but it always worked on her mother. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas! Can’t I stay just for the month? It isn’t as if you’re going anywhere, and if Garrit is working you’ll want company!”

“As if you have any intention of spending your time anywhere but with Jean,” Abby said.

“I don’t know why you always assume the worst of your sister, Abby, but it isn’t very fair of you,” Mama said. “Would it really be such a chore to spend some time with her?”

Abby looked as though she had been forced to suck on a lemon. “I would be more than happy to spend time with Mia, Mum, but you know as well as I do that isn’t why she wants to stay and I see no reason why I should encourage her in a relationship that can only end badly.”

“And who are you to decide how her relationship will end, or even that it will? You won’t even give her a chance to get to know him!”

Abby flushed and she glared at Mia. “Fine. If you want to stay, stay. But don’t come crying to me when you find out that he isn’t at all interested in settling down with anyone.”

Mia jumped up and hugged her sister tightly. “I promise you won’t regret it! You’ll barely notice I’m here! But oh! Can I borrow some of your clothes? I only have a week’s worth, and I don’t want Jean to think I only wear five outfits.”